


Put on a show

by grim_lupine



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don’t call his name because Brad doesn’t want to be a part of the show; he wants to see, he wants them to show themselves off for him; he wants to know that even when they’re the ones fucking, even when he’s just watching without a word, he’s still silently running the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put on a show

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Повеселимся](https://archiveofourown.org/works/616242) by [grim_lupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine), [SleepSpindles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepSpindles/pseuds/SleepSpindles)



-

\--

Brad likes to watch.

He likes clenching his hands at his sides and teasing himself a little, refraining from touching himself until he’s so turned on he can barely stand it. He likes being able to see it all without being distracted by touches. He wants to see _everything_.

He wouldn’t miss a second of this for the world.

Nate’s shoulders twitch a little, like he can feel Brad’s eyes on him. His ears go pink, and with that and his swollen red mouth, he looks about fifteen and all kinds of bad-hot-wrong; but there isn’t one hint of uncertainty in his voice when he says sharply, “Ray. Get on your knees.” The hand that cups Ray’s jaw and tips it upward is steady and firm. The dichotomy gets Brad, every time. From the way Ray falls to his knees without question, he loves it too.

Of course, Ray wouldn’t be Ray if he didn’t run his mouth off: “Yes _sir_ ,” he says, smirking, as much of a dare as Brad has ever seen.

Nate doesn’t disappoint. His right hand goes to the front of his jeans, deftly undoing the button and sliding the zipper down; at the same time, he shoves two of his fingers of the other hand into Ray’s mouth, stretching his lower lip, thumb stroking the line of his jaw.

Brad can see Ray’s throat bob as he swallows around them; sees Nate slide his fingers in, pulling them out all spit-slick and messy, and then his hand is around the back of Ray’s head, pulling him forward until his face is shoved in between Nate’s legs.

This is how they do this: Nate and Ray never acknowledge Brad, pretend he isn’t there; at least, they don’t acknowledge him in words. Brad can see their awareness in the way they twitch toward him a little; the way Ray’s eyes flick toward his chair in the corner of the room before he nuzzles Nate’s cloth-covered cock; the way Nate adjusts the angle of Ray’s head, just a little, just enough that Brad gets the best view of Ray’s greedy mouth sucking at Nate’s cock through his underwear. They don’t call his name because Brad doesn’t want to be a part of the show; he wants to see, he wants them to show themselves off for him; he wants to know that even when they’re the ones fucking, even when he’s just watching without a word, he’s still silently running the show.

They know what he likes. “Suck me off, Ray,” Nate says quietly, firmly, and at _those words_ coming out of _that_ mouth, in a tone so even that Nate might as well be reading off a grocery list, Brad has to run his palm over the front of his jeans, pushing his cock up against his hand. It takes more self-control than he expects to pull his hand away.

Ray shoves Nate’s jeans and underwear down, pushes him back against the wall and scoots forward some more on his knees; he swallows Nate’s cock down with no preamble, and Nate’s head _thump_ s against the wall, his hand cupping the back of Ray’s head.

Ray knows, he _knows_ what Brad gets off on: that even with his mouth stopped up with cock he can’t fucking _shut up_ , he’s making stifled, abbreviated groans and panting noises, wet sounds when he pulls away, slurping at the head of Nate’s cock until Nate breaks and groans a fervent, “ _Ray_ , Ray, _jesus_.”

Brad breathes out sharply through his nose. Slowly draws down the zipper on his jeans and fists a hand around his cock, and it’s so _good_ , his boys, seeing them like this.

Nate’s breath hitches in a broken gasp, and Brad knows that sound, Ray knows it too; Ray pins Nate’s hips against the wall with both hands and _swallows_ , keeps swallowing, throat working as Nate comes, and comes, and comes.

Nate doesn’t do post-orgasm dazedness like everyone else. He looks unsteady on his feet for a few seconds, before he’s stepping out of his bunched up clothes, yanking Ray up by the arms, pushing him until he falls backwards onto the bed.

The two of them have Ray out of his clothes in a heartbeat, Nate finally losing his shirt as well, and Brad’s mouth goes a little dry at the sight of all that skin. He shifts a little in his chair, and Nate’s eyes flick upward and meet his, two spots of burning green in his face; Brad doesn’t say a word, but Nate _knows_ , _Ray_ knows, and Ray’s turning over onto his stomach even before Nate can flip him over.

“Do it, Nate, fuck, what are you waiting for, a signed invitation?” Ray says, ass clenching as he pushes his hips into the mattress, and Nate—fuck, Nate just goes to _town_ , shifts Ray sideways a little so Brad can see better, and bends down and shoves his tongue into Ray’s hole.

Ray groans, a drawn-out, reverberating sound, and Brad’s heart is pounding, cock so hard he’s aching, and Nate is making no effort to quiet the wet, slick noises he’s making.

“Fuckfuckfuck, _Nate_ , come on, get me wet, get me ready for—,” Ray says, voice breaking when Nate pulls away and lifts Ray up to his hands and knees for better access, reaching out with one hand to scrabble around in the bedside drawer for the lube, before diving back in between Ray’s legs.

Ray tries to get a hand around his cock, but Nate bats it away; pulls back and slicks up his fingers, stretches Ray open while Ray swears, “Jesus christ, you sadistic bastard, just because you came already doesn’t mean the rest of us can wait, I’m good, I’m _good_ —”

And Nate says quietly, “Yeah, you are,” and wipes his hand on his hip, and turns to look at Brad. Ray lets out a shaky breath, and turns over to catch Brad’s eye as well, and says, “Get the fuck over here and _fuck_ me, Brad.”

Nate lifts an eyebrow, and he’s flushed down to his chest, mouth swollen and obscenely pink; and Ray’s legs are drawn up, cock hard, lube gleaming wetly around his hole, and his eyes are dark with need.

Brad stands up. Walks over to the bed and kisses them one at a time, Ray first, sucking on his tongue, then Nate, biting his mouth even redder.

Their show might be finished, but that doesn’t mean they’re anywhere near done.

\--

-


End file.
